


The Soldier and the Baroness

by penninghistory



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penninghistory/pseuds/penninghistory
Summary: When Amya, daughter of the former Baron of Gorlan fief meets the man covered head to toe in armor, one who never removes his helmet for anyone, she's instantly curious and suspicious of his motives. But when a deal goes south, will he be the only one able to protect her from the inevitable?
Kudos: 7





	The Soldier and the Baroness

"Won't you take the helmet off? Just once?" Amya asked one morning while she munched on some dried fruit. The Mandalorian across the table from her stayed silent, his visor facing her, but his mind somewhere else. Possibly on the little green frog creature that he had simply called, "The Child."   
He didn't move, but the loud exhale of air told her all she needed to know. They had had this conversation before, probably one too many times for the Mandalorian, but she was insistent on having it still. Maybe just to spite him.   
Amya chewed on her fruit for a moment longer before asking him, "Do you remember when my father hired you? You had only been in the Mountains a day before you got into a fight with Foldar." She huffed out a laugh. "I remember thinking my father was going to kill you, but you had proven yourself that day. Wasn't that the day you became my bodyguard?"   
He finally allowed his gaze to fall on her, taking in her red flush as she realized where he was looking. "Yes," he said simply, his voice sounding different through the helmet. There had been times, in the cold darkness of night, that he had taken off the annoying piece of metal. Blindfolded, she had memorized his features, let him tell her stories of his childhood while trying to hide her own. She had fallen asleep to those stories more than once. There was a certain comfort there that she couldn't put a finger on. A warmth that seemed to be amplified when she woke up with the Child lying against her chest, fast asleep. Without realizing it, she let her mind slip back, back to the day she had met the man in front of her. 

"Come on, Foldar! My father didn't make you a commander so you could laze about all day!" Amya's voice was harsh, her words cutting as she drew closer to the group of men standing in front of drilling Wargals. Three of the men straightened to attention, directing small bows her direction, but one refused to stand, not looking at the woman who stared down at him.   
"And I don't answer to you, do I, Amya?" Foldar said, a testing tone in his voice. "As far as I was aware, we only answer to Lord Morgarath. Not his spawn."   
Amya tensed, one eyebrow raised. "Do you realize, once we win this war, that you'' answer to me. You already do."   
"Do you realize, My Lady," the words 'my lady' were laid heavily with sarcasm, "that once we win this war, that you'll be married off to someone and have children? Like 'very noblewoman who came before you."   
Amya raised her hand and brought it down in a hard slap across the man's cheek. Her breath was heavy, anger flowing through her veins, and it took her a moment to realize what she had done. But it took less time for Foldar, and he had stood, backhanding the woman hard enough to send her to the ground, opening a cut in her cheek. "You have some cheek, Amya," the man said, standing over the younger woman, about to strike again when a gloved hand grabbed his.   
"That isn't a smart move," came the voice, deep, rough. Foldar turned to see a man wearing a visored helmet staring at him, hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. "Try it again, and I make sure you don't have two arms."   
"Oh? And who are you supposed to be? Her knight in shining armor?"   
"No, but I'm sure you don't want Lord Morgarath to know you beat his daughter bloody. I hear he doesn't appreciate news like that, especially when it comes to his heiress." The stranger tightened his grip slightly. "So I'll repeat it. Hit her again, and you won't have this arm. Understood?"   
Foldar jerked his arm away from the stranger, backing away and glancing down at Amya, who had watched the interaction curiously. "I'd watch her, lover boy," he taunted, "I wonder if she learned how to seduce as well as her mother. Always on her back!"   
Amya, against her better judgment, turned beet red and looked at the ground beneath her feet as the stranger launched his attack. Punches were thrown and dodged, and it took three men to break the two apart. Amya stood between them, lip and cheek still bloody and looked at the stranger. "Follow me, now," she told the man, and, without a second glace to Foldar, who was bruised and bloody, walked away, making the stranger follow in her wake.   
Once they were out of earshot, she turned to face him. "You shouldn't have done that. If there is one thing my father hates more than anyone touching me, its one of his commanders getting into fights."   
"He shouldn't have said that," The stranger said, and Amya shrugged. "I'm too used to it by now. You should wash your armor. I'm sure you'll be meeting my father sooner than you might think."


End file.
